Countdown

One day to go.

One day to go.

One day to go.

Cojo

Friends, family and colleagues have recently been subjected to a plethora of tales concerning the antics of our neighbours' new, wee kitten - Coco.

Coco is a sweet cat. She is furry and warm. And oh so cute.

But sadly, it has recently become apparent that due to a freak surgical accident during her birth, Coco's soul has been swapped with that of a rabid wilderbeast.

She tactically locates and hunts down everything. Dragonflies. Bindi. Ferns.

I exaggerate not. This is one mad cat. Totally truckin' nutty crackers. And so, in a civil-minded mood, I have published this post, together with a photo of the wanted beast, as public notice to all unsuspecting people... pets... plants... random inanimate objects.

Be alert but not alarmed.

The Coco

cocoralis bananus

(pictured in its native habitat - Bindi's papasan chair)

The Tree

BTW, this is my Christmas tree - 7'3" of unadulterated festive goodness.

Wicked.

Christmas 101

I fully love Christmas. Like heaps. I've experienced quite a few and have come to develop reasonably strong feelings about most aspects of the silly season.

Here is an initial short, punchy list of strong, clear views:

• I actually hate the phrase 'silly season'.
• And I say no to people who write 'xmas'. (Just how lazy are you?)
• You can never have too many fairy lights.
• Or too much tinsel - though it should be tastefully colour-matched.
• Presents are exciting but scary; and far more fun to give than to get. (Due to that scariness factor referred to earlier).

More mindless Christmas banter to follow shortly. 'Til then, stay chipper and good.... 'cause he's waaaatchiiiiiing!

2 Much Booty (In Da Pants)

So maybe I AM the only dag in this country who is regularly tuning into 'So You Think You Can Dance", but dang(!), check out these moves right here.

They are so hot. Maan, you don't even know.

You don't even know, maaaan!

You don't even KNOW!!!

Just One More Happy Camper

Five minutes ago I was one narky little chicken. But not now. Oh no. Five minutes ago I wanted stark revenge and painful retribution. But all that rage has since magically vanished.

That's right, I've put on a 'happy face'. The face that sunk a thousand witty comebacks and saved many a precarious relationship from a looming, earth-shattering kaboom. "Ooooh... what a happy wee face you have there!" say my many imaginary Irish friends as I try to slap them with potatoes.

Well, I tell you what Paddy, if I was true to myself, I'd publish the hard-core vent I've just saved as a draft. But my annoyingly wise and level-headed hubby has advised against it citing professional repercussions and potential legal suits.

So here I am. Sitting. Festering. With my hippity-hap-hap-happy face on.

30 Movember, 2200 hours

Hey there Pedro!

My face couldn't say it better - it truly IS surprising how quickly Movember passed by, isn't it?

But don't be sad my little munchkin. Movember 07 will rumble around before you can say, "Eh, Baxter, where my enchilada at? Tanto muchacho!!! Andale andale!!"

And so, until we meet again ol' friend. Farewell sweet mo. Godspeed.

So Busted-o

In a controversial move, a certain Sunshine Coast mo-grower (referred to only as Mr Bitchino) has ditched his 'tache some 6 days prior to the end of Movember.

Despite futile attempts to brush off speculation, one-time supporters of the 'tache are now concerned that the full-bodied mo they had come to admire may, in fact, have been nothing more than an elaborate, stubble-combover scam.

When publicly questioned about his latest facial incarnation, Mr Bitchino reportedly explained his actions by saying, "I fell down and my mo fell off".

Hmmmm...


Troubling times.

Raw Eggs

I'm quite regularly overcome by the sheer wrongness of some things in this strange, strange world. And so it came to pass that this all-new-and-improved category of posts was spawned.


Kicking off are raw eggs.

I really hate raw eggs. Like, REALLY.

I am terrified of eggnog, and suspicious of moist cakes.

They are SO wrong, I don't even know how to say it. But a few words come to mind:

• Slime
• Dodgy smell
• Blood spots
• Possible baby chickens

Admit it. You're going to think twice the next time someone offers you an overeasy toad-in-the-hole*.

*Wikipedia notes the following similar names for this traditional egg/bread combo. Try to pick my favourite: frog in the pond, bird's nest, birdie in a basket, eggs in a basket, eggs in frames, peek-a-boo eggs, holey toast, egg in a hole, bullseye toast, one-eyed jack, egg in a window, egg on a raft, man on a raft, paddy egg, castle'd egg, special egg, knothole egg, Popeye egg, Egyptian eyes, one eyed egyptian sandwich, gibbly's willies, eggy bread, scout eggs (US Boy Scouts), "eggs with hats on top" and "eggy in the basket"

Busy & Important

Yep, that's me.

And besides, it's been a big, huge day, involving:

• The end of Movember!
• Bindi's 1st birthday!
• And the purchase of Viva Pinata!

So no blogging today. Ok? None. No corny jokes or jumped-up tirades to help you twiddle away the hours. You're just going to have to make your own fun. So go on. Off you go. Go and get some sunshine.

Idol Rantings

A biased, blow-by-blow, contemporaneously tippity-tapped account of the night that stopped the nation.

Warning: If you don't like Idol, rantings, or relentlessly pov sarcasm, turn back now. On the other hand, if you don't like Reigan Derry, prepare to suckle at the altar my children.

Hooking in fashionably late at about 7.45 or so, the rave is kicking off with The Young Divas performing ‘Right About Now’ or some such. I still want some answers as to why Casey Donovan isn't the 5th Diva, but I fear this isn't the occasion to bring it up.

A quick transition to the latest Anthony Callea snoozetrack. I don't know what it is, but I know I don't like it. I'm slightly fixated by Callea's newly shaved head, but am shocked at the indecent lack of pink. All good Melbourne boys wear pink. His managers should be sacked.

Well, we're on to the state montage now – all the highs, lows and fillers that Idol is famous for. Ho hum.

Bringing artists back from the dead, Marcia and Deni are doing some 70s flashback that makes me feel sick. Disco music always makes me feel sick. I can't make out what the song's about. But check out Marcia’s glittery spandex jeans. My God. Do these people never age? Perhaps the dancing skill has declined, but I’m not convinced that it was tops to start with. The extensive panning shots lessen the impact of the spangles, but draw my attention to how much I loathe Sydney. Bloody flashy little town.

And did I mention that there’s a stack of back-up dancers supporting the Hines duo? Guess it gives the NIDA tryouts something to do. Looks like they employed half of Australia’s bodybuilding community also. Oh right, 'G' just said that the song was ‘Stomp’, so look out for that. Literally. Look out.

Oh heavens above. We’ve moved to the Telstra Street Idol winner who's scummed a stack of money for doing a totally shite version of Britney’s 'One More Time'. Wouldn’t you know it, she’s from Brisbane. My heart swells with pride. And she’s purportedly going to give the prize money to her parents to pay her school fees. Sure she is… her parents probably don’t even know she’s in Sydney.

Ad break and who would have thought, it’s Telstra banging on again. OH YEAH! AND the new 'All Night Long' Jupiters ad! Dang we love that ad! Better than Callea, that’s for sure. Aanyway, the next few ads are promoting foods I can’t eat, so let’s ignore them. Oh here we go. One of those Mazda/Idol ads. More specifically, that Mazda / Idol ad where Reigan Derry from Perth acts like a COMPLETE TOOL! I never liked her. I can’t believe she took on the George classic 'Breathe In Now'. Katie Noonan must be shuddering in her boots.

Rockin’. We’re back to it. Damien and Jessica's mums are chilling in the make-up room. They’re telling embarrassing stories that aren’t funny. Or embarrassing really. More filler. Any advice for Damo and Jess? “Good luck Jessie, and I hope you do well”. “Just relax and go with it”. Truckin' genius. I think Sheridan and the Maybelline Style Team wrote that for them.

'G' is back on the live outdoor stage. Lines are still open, and apparently I can make the difference. Must admit that I’m half tempted to give the old thumb a text frenzy just 'cause I’m so damn fed up with everyone saying that they want Jess to win. I can practically feel the unspoken finish to "I'm going for Jess" - “because that other guy doesn’t sound the same as us”. Losers. Jess is great. No doubt. But it's not like the world needs another Mariah – even if she is a lovely, smiley, 16 year old girl from the bush.

Guy Sebastian is rocking the outdoor stage now. What’s changed? He’s got a guitar, less hair and more attitude. Not to mention a somewhat unconvincing song. I think he might be trying to rock out. Perhaps taking a dead and shrivelled leaf out of Shannon Noll’s book? Nice vest anyways. Hmm… It’s not really holding my interest. Gee, I’m hungry. I managed to squeeze a shower into Callea’s monumental flop; perhaps I could whip up dinner in this one. OH S**T! Forget that!! The stage is FLOATING!!!! Talk about the wonders of technology. Looks like a giant ironing board. He should be careful. They can be tricky buggers to put back down. Wow, and so much smoke. Popping the stage must have opened the gates to hell.

Gee I don’t like this song. Or Sydney. At least someone turned off Guy's mike before he did a shout-out. Again, James Mathison has warned all that that track is 'Elevator Love'. Ooooooohhh… now I see why the stage had to go up.

Ads.

Oh please. 'G' just compared the Opera House to being one of the 7 wonders of the world.

And a throw to Shannon Noll’s new mushorama ‘Lonely’. BLURGH! The white jeans and dog tags are an interesting style statement. The phrase ‘turdy durge’ comes to mind. I’m glad Bindi’s joined me on the couch for a play.

Here we go. We’re talking to Shannon. He’s had a little girl this year. Fascinating. He’s going O/S to find some good writers. What is he saying about Australian writers?? Major faux pas there, my friend. OH NO! Here’s the audience shout-out. Go you good things.

More ads. Just annoyed hubby to go and make dinner. I can’t believe he’s missing all this action just to send out more Movember emails.

Damo and Jess are about to arrive it seems. To run with the regional diversity seen in Idol this year, the protagonists are entering via horse and cart cavalcade. What a rip off. I specifically voted for a double-decker Porsche. Oh my God. Leading the pack is Klancie Keough, escorting her breasts to the House. She is something else. Will modesty never reach the outback?

Final 2 outfits = Jess in a black strapless dress over pink ¾ tights. Damo in a sharp black suit with hoodie beneath. He’s so cool. Wow. Slowest walk up the red carpet ever. 'G' and Mathison are struggling. “Reaching for superlatives” says hubby. Statements like, “They’ve grown not just as performers, but as people.” Hmmm… “The nation's eyes upon them”. G and Matho keep yabbering on about the winner walking away as a recording artist. Like they both won’t. Has there been a single year when both finalists haven’t got a contract at the end of it? Guy and Shannon. Casey and Anthony, Kate and Emily. Nup, covered.

Finally, they’ve reached the summit. Jess & Damo are trying to talk, which is ordinarily the death nell for these Idol kiddies.

Back outside The Final 12 are doing a rendition of a Coldplay classic. Can’t believe I’ve already forgotten the names of some of them. But Dean Geyer. Dang, he’s so hot right now. The girls are going nuts. Liquid nuts. Why is Reigan at the front? Can’t somebody strap her to a train track or something? Ooooh, fireworks! Pretty. Pity the lighting on the O-House looks like the work of some crazed highlighters. So many fireworks. Spared no expense, I’d say. They obviously don’t have Level 4 fireworks restrictions south of the border. Damien and Jess have joined in the climax of the song, and are demonstrating why they’re the finalists. Lovely. Great song. Even hubby is humming along cooking the chops.

I’m so excited. Sounds like we’re about to actually get inside the House after a few short breaks.

We’ve made it inside, but another montage is upon us – flashbacks through the theatre rounds etc. George Beck. What. A. Tool. Thanks for reminding me about him. The commentary is more pap - “It would be a tougher competition than any other year”. Never heard that before. Man, there’s so too much Reigan in this montage. And not enough Bobby. He is a dead-set legend. Hold it. Did Mathison just say, “Whether they win or not, one of them is going to win”. No, I don’t think so. But boy I wish he did.

VOTING LINES ARE CLOSED. Do you hear me? So stop voting, you wallies. Another slow song to welcome us into the House. Age of Reason kicking off with REIGAN. NNNNOOOOOO! Who let her in? Klancie, you are rubbish too. The cute dimpled guy who I've forgotten is absolutely s***ting himself. Oh hell. We’ve pumped the song up to some fast disco track that should have stayed in the archives. Looks like a song montage on our hands. New transition to the rocky ‘Thinking about you, thinking about me. La da de da, la da de da" track. Forgotten the title. Should know. Afe will slam me for not knowing. Sweeet…. Bobby running with INXS classic Precious Heart. He really does look like Sideshow Bob. Which is even more weird, because, as hubby points out, Bobby's name is Bob too. Weeeiiirrrd… He’s passed the torch to Dean in a ripped-sleeve number. There’s so much bicep action going on that he just flexed Reigan off the stage. Ok, a little wishful thinking there. “You Really Got Me” with Chris Murphy. Ho hum. Not my thing. Back to Age of Reason with the Leith meister. He’s probably never heard the song before. And now Jess is at it. I hate to say it, but they both sound reasonably lame. Perhaps it’s because they want to puke on the front row.

Oh hell. J & D are talking again. Quick shift to Holden, decked out in the 100% white suit. Marcia, saying nothing again. And Kyle talking straight – he’s so real.

Ok, just finished dinner over this massive Jessica flashback and throw to the Territory. I’m trying to interpret Jess through the giggles. She’s going to sing after the break- 'When You Believe' – that same crap Mariah and Whitney song she sang last week. Who writes these songs? Is there some mush factory in the little known hills of Nepal churning this stuff out? I don’t know, but I’m sure Reigan’s involved. That’s right. If you’re reading this Reigan (yes, you know you can’t look away), then here’s the news flash. You’re not a hip young thing, you’re not a punkrocker. You are also… A Tool.

On to Damien now. That means another good 45 minutes of blurb. They called him ‘The People’s Tenor’ again. Gee, he must love that. Checking out the party at the Gaelic Club in Sydney, then across to Ireland. Aaaah… those Irish are so damn cute. They even say “good man”. Are they pissed? I think they’re offering him a dog. Out of all the great songs he’s done over the year, it seems Damo is, sadly, singing 'Nessun Dorma' tonight. Guess I can live with that.

Ok, they’ve promised the verdict very soon. I’m not convinced, and can’t stop yawning. More crosses to the respective party towns. More ads.

A final Top 12 performance. 'You Got the Music In You / You Only Get What You Give'. I like that one.

Right, well, we’re down to it now. I don’t know if Jess is going to cry or throw up. And I think Damien’s holding on to her for support. “And the winner of Australian Idol 2006 is…"

DAMIEN LEITH

Yeah! Good work Aus. You got this one right. As Damo says,

“Australian Idol. The best show on tv”.

At least until BB07.

22 Movember, 2200 hours

Guess the Mo's Quote

Pop Quiz

1. "Oooh yeah. Who's your daddy?"
   
2. "No, YOU da man!"
   
3. "Youch!"
   
4. "My, is that a hamster up your nose?"

Only the mo knows, and he's not talking.

Forget NY...

I Y PRAGUE

Liquid Dinosaurs

I have tried and tried to resist the temptation of posting about these crazy Dinosaur Comics, which Afe in his infinite wisdom picked up some months ago. But I can take it no longer!

I particularly admire today's comic (yes, it changes every day), and those of you who check it out will undoubtedly, with much mirth, appreciate this post title.

But for those of you who don't take a look, and who don't have the foggiest idea what liquid dinosaurs have to do with anything, well tough. Shame on you for not checking in here more regularly!

Pride & Prestige

No, you didn't read incorrectly. Jesse and I just returned from viewing 'The Prestige' - the newly-released flick starring Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale, Scarlett Johansson, random star, random star, etc etc etc.

Well, this is one of those films for which I really don't want to give anything away, so I shall say nothing other than what a couple of nutters...


See for yourself. And whatever you do...

Watch... Very... Closely...

Texas Holdem Poker Modown Night Thingy

They came. They drank. They lost a bit of money. And self respect.

But the mo's were the winner on the night.

With a $15 chips buy-in and $5 entry fee going to Movember (good lads), it was clear that all were psyched for a serious evening of betting, bluffing and sticking cards on their heads.

As the high rollers gathered at the table, it was anyone's game. There were some seasoned pros and some cocky amateurs, but each had their tale to tell and all sought to leave triumphant with the smell of many many cheap, sticky chips still lingering on their palms.

Who would do it? Who's cuisine would reign supreme?

Well who cares, really?* The important thing is that Jesse lost all but his dacks and a stomping (though blurry) night was had all 'round.

*Ok, if you absolutely must know, I think the standing was something like Andy, Afe, Dave, Gav and, let me reiterate, hubby a distant last.

The Big Question

How the truckin' rucker do you clean tile grout?*

No jokes.

Bugger the tiles. The tiles are sweet mate. It's the grout that sucks the very life from my bones...

*Seriously JB, this question is directed at you (if you ever stop partying to read my damn blog!)

Confessions Part 2

The new Jesse McCartney album rulez!!!

Yeah! Rockin'!!! :)

Chillin'

We've recently been a little worried about Boris*, one of Jesse's new work colleagues.

He works too hard, for too long, and takes everything in life just that little bit too earnestly.

The good news from today though, is that he's taking a well-earned holiday starting next week.




In Antarctica.

For a month.

On an ice-breaker research expedition.

As a volunteer subject.

*Subject's true identity has been withheld for oh so many reasons.

I Am Getting Ooooold

I am getting old.

This fact hit me in a sudden burst of disappointment just the other day.

In a fit of unprecedented reminiscence, I dug out an ancient copy of Duke Nukem 3D - the definitive game of my schooling years - and slapped it onto the ol' PC. Naturally, it was with great, no-holds-barred anticipation that I mentally prepared myself for the rediscovery of this classic game.

I exercised no emotional restraint. I could taste the immeasurable victories which lay tantalisingly before me, and had committed my heart and soul to the game before it had finished installing.

Then I hit that glorious "New Game" button...


Well. I don't know what happened to Duke Nukem 3D over the last 10 or so years. But the graphics are crap. And the wiggly running around makes me sick. I can't aim, can barely jump, and jet-packing is entirely out of the question.

In short, this hack of a first-person shooter bears absolutely no resemblance to the Duke of my glory days.

And yet, as I rapidly uninstalled this abomination, a tiny, evil voice which would not be quietened whispered oh so gently that perhaps, just perhaps, the problem was the user and not the game.




Shut up little voice.

15 Movember, 1800 hours

Antonio Banderas

Hubby Jesse

Never seen together at the same time.

Think about it.

Ending the Drought

Today I had my first coffee in three weeks.



"Oooooh.... coooffeee......ghlghlghlghlghl"

Top Vintage

Hubby and I recently checked out 'A Good Year' - a charming new flick featuring the not-so-enigmatic Mr Russell Crowe and the hip new thing, Ms Abbie Cornish. Although I wouldn't rate it as an earth-shattering piece of drama, it was interesting to see two Aussies play the lead British and American roles and, if nothing else, it certainly satisfied your quintessential all's-right-with-the-world tale of romance, wine-making and the important things in life.

But the best bit? Well, that would have to be the fact that this sweet little yarn was neatly wrapped up in the gorgeous wiles of Provence.

After our short stay in Paris last year, Jesse and I felt compelled to add France as a close second to Ireland in our shortlist of favoured foreign states. But so inspired were we by our recent rendezvous at the cinema that Jesse actually checked out the French working visa system today. (No exclamations of surprise for finding out that there is basically no such thing).

Truly, despite being unable to eat the staple diet of cheese and bread, seriously failing to speak French, and having adopted a zero tolerance attitude towards arrogance, we still cherish the dream of living in the nether regions of France one day.

One day...

Frogger

Another of Bindi's many impressions.

Moving With The Times

I've done it. After much deliberation, I've succumbed to the new Beta Blogger system. (The clincher came when the old Blogger stopped letting me choose my font colour. Really subtle encouragement to roll over, huh?)

Aaanyway, I can now easily pre-establish all of my font and background colours. But, in return, it looks as though my title background has buggered up a bit. Hmmm... not sure about that trade off.

Still, the message is, if you dislike or disagree with anything on this blog from now on, please be assured that it's not me. I had nothing to do with it. It's the new Blogger. Comprenda?

Oblivion Anon

I've played some great games in my time. Sims, Duke Nukem 3D, Sleuth. But recently, I've been overwhelmingly disappointed with the same ol' same ol', boring, boycentric games pervading the market. Ok, I understand that the backers of these games are too nancy-pantsed to actually lash out on an innovative game that could be a monumental flop. But that understanding doesn't help me when I'm ready to spend some cold, hard cash.

I cannot overly stress my disgust at the current Xbox 360 range. What an absolute pack of rubbish - mindless zombie-smacking, army-stacking and sports games. BLURGH!

My only happy place in this void of misery, is the mighty, epic saga that is The Elder Scrolls IV - or 'Oblivion' for short. I love love love this game, and am most distressed that I've basically finished it.

Where oh where are the little jumpy man games for Xbox? The arcade games are lame as. Oh, how I wish they would bring back the classics... Captain Comic, Commander Keen, Double Dragon. (Clearly alliteration is the sign of a top game).

The take-home message? Work harder moles. Chicks like consoles too.

All I Want For Christmas...

So Hot Right Now

Show and tell time. Or, at least, a few musical comments ripe for purging.

Panic! At the disco - "A Fever You Can't Sweat Out"

How much am I loving these guys right now? SO much, let me tell you. I loath that slow, sooky-assed, punk rock rubbish that has been jamming the airways of late, but 'A Fever You Can't Sweat Out' is just my thing - fast, catchy and a little kooky. Oh! And so many great, zany, long song titles! I just hate that it's mainstream and overplayed. Grrr...

Robbie Williams - "Rudebox"

What did I miss here? I went to make a coffee, and in the meantime Robbie ripped out another extremely ordinary album. He may be the biggest pop icon in the world (tag-teaming with the illustrious J Timberlake), but someone needs to break it to Robbie that white men just can't rap. Truly. It all sounds like Ali G to me. There are some moderately interesting 80s throwbacks in the set, but generally, this album is just bad bad bad. Perhaps it could be amusing once 'round with alcohol... But probably not.

John Mayer - "Continuum"

Aaaaah, take a chill pill with young Mr Mayer. Easy listening, some poignant lyrics (I'm peachy keen on the 'Belief' track at the moment) and plenty of lazy guitar solos. Every day's a Sunday with this one. Lovely.

8 Movember, 0800 hours

¡Buenos días mis camaradas!

¡Día 7 de Movember!

Observe por favor mi bigote magnífico, moles.

Y compruebe que 'blue steel' chiselled la acción del cheekbone.

Youch.

1 Movember, 0700 hours

Hola!

Day 1 and Jesse is shaved and ready to rumble for a month of serious stubble trouble. Bring it on moles...

Check It Out Now (The Funk Mo Brother)

When it comes to growing outrageous facial hair, Jesse doesn't need much encouragement. Holidays. A weekend. He can even produce an acceptable show of stubble before an evening is out.

The only thing that seems to get in the way of Jesse permanently falling to the lure of a Mexican mo' is, as with all things, work. And that is why it is with such excitement that I welcome you all to MOVEMBER!

That's right. The genius of Movember is an entire month of work-endorsed, slightly more socially acceptable, mo-growing. However, Movember is not just about raising the cultural profile of the moustache within our fair land. More importantly, Movember is about raising awareness of Men’s Health issues, and raising money to support the fight against these diseases. In particular, Movember seeks to raise awareness of:

Prostate Cancer.

Almost one in ten men will develop prostate cancer during his lifetime. Every year, around 10,000 Australian men are diagnosed and more than 2,700 die of the disease, making prostate cancer the second largest cause of male cancer deaths, after lung cancer. You can find out more on the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia website.

Depression.

Depression affects 1 in 6 men…Most don’t seek help. Untreated depression is a leading risk factor for suicide. Rates of suicide are more than double the national road toll. You can find out more on the Beyond Blue website.

Testicular Cancer.

Testicular cancer is the\n second most common cancer in men aged 18-35 years. The number of men\n diagnosed with testicular cancer has grown by approximately 34% over the\n past decade, but the reason for this is not known. The good news is testicular\n cancer is highly curable when found early and treated promptly. You can find out more on the Association for International Cancer Research website.

More Information

To find out more about these Men’s Health issues or Movember itself, check out the official Movember website.

Make a Donation

For those of you who want to do more than just talk about Movember, you may be interested in sponsoring Jesse's mo and making a donation. All donations go to the Prostate Cancer Foundation of Australia and beyondblue, the national depression initiative. You can donate by credit card on this donations site - simply enter Jesse's rego number (2135) and your credit card details. As usual all donations over $2 (including by credit card) are tax-deductible.

A series of photos highlighting the progression of Jesse's mo and flavour saver combo will be regularly posted on this blog. So enjoy, and give some thought to supporting this most excellent event.

Where's Wally?

Hello again world!

As some of you may have noticed, I've taken a wee hiatus from my blog over the last few weeks. I could bore you all senseless with the details, but lets just say that I've been in the wars, medically speaking, and updating the blog simply fell off the agenda.

But now I'm back, so please forgive the rude interruption to your lunchtime reading habits. I do understand how irritating it must have been to find a new pastime at work, so I shall endeavour to make amends for my wayward behavior. Just give me a second to catch my breath...

Confessions Part 1

I am disgrace.

But please, let me explain.

I have to take my blood pressure every morning and night (and input the data into the ridiculous Excel spreadsheet compulsively set up by Jesse). Needless to say, the honeymoon period for this mind-numbing practice concluded quite quickly. And so it came to pass that, in order to lessen the boredom of this process, I took up playing Spider Solitaire whilst pressuring away.

Ok, so perhaps that is understandable.

But my real confession is that I have recently found myself playing Spider Solitaire at times when... I'm NOT taking my blood pressure. I sometimes find myself just thinking about those neat little stacks of cards. Imagining what's underneath them. That queen of hearts I've been hanging out for? Surely not another five of clubs!



I shall just sit in the corner and quietly beat myself now.

A Rose By Any Other Name

There are some truly inspirational job titles floating around at the moment. I thought Jesse's new-found position as a 'Solutions Architect' was a bit of a toss. But at least it doesn't lend itself to too many derogatory mutations.

It's not as if he's, say, the 'Applications Solutions Specialist'* - no cigar for working some magic on the acronym there. And what about the pitiful sod who slaved his way up the slippery corporate ladder to attain the illustrious title as 'Head of Tools'*. I mean it's bad enough being one of the ordinary Tools, but to be Head of Tools must be truly something.

*Do not doubt, my children. These are real titles employed by some of Australia's most trusted financial institutions.

Blow This

Enough! Where do those QR kiddies get off blowing their nut-cracking train whistles every time they leave a station? It freaks the begoogles out of me!

• Is it to alert the station master in case he's not looking out the window?
• Is it to notify mice and assorted losers to get off the tracks??
• Or is it just to hurt me???

Honestly. It's not like we're all standing there after the gong going, "Ooh. Will you look at at that. A train. Here. At a train station. Fancy."

The Calling

I have had a realisation. Nay, a revelation!

I want to live on a FARM!

Not just any farm mind you. None of that digging things up or putting animals down rubbish. Oh no! I want to be a BERRY farmer!!

For not only are berries the very masters of the fruit world, but I could work from home, reside beyond a capital city and have tourists pay ME for the privilege of picking the little buggers themselves! Talk about the Australian way of life. Genius...

Nerdburglar

This one is for the benefit of those poor poor souls who have not yet made the long trek to the right-hand sidebar to visit The Afe Blog. Much as I hate pinching cool stuff from our buddies' blogs, I can't resist subjecting the talents of this website to another posting.

Now, to explain. As you have no doubt already recognised, the visual below is a graphical representation of the migration of pygmy frogs after heavy rainfall in the Western Sahara. However, what you may NOT have so rapidly deduced my smug little bunnies, is that it ALSO represents the migration of Paris Hilton after a night on the turps... AND THIS VERY BLOG! Baha!!

If you're a complete nerdburger, you may be interested in knowing the following key:

• Blue - links
• Red - tables
• Green - the DIV tag (whatever, nerdburgers...)
• Violet - pickies
• Yellow - forms
• Orange - linebreaks and blockquotes
• Black - the HTML tag
• Gray - all the random stuff (lots of this)

Otherwise, just enjoy the colour and movement...

Quick Robin! To the batdog!!

Sometimes I feel sad for Bindi... Not often mind you, (like now, as she scratches the life out of the back door). But when she's out on the deck playing with her best friend Mr Rope Toy, or second best friend Mr Random Rock From the Garden, I sometimes wonder if perhaps she would like a real, live, 'nother doggy to play with.

Jesse and I did actually give serious consideration to the possibility of a second pup - particularly as we'd recently seen our favourite 'ewok dog' out and about. But then, in an attempt to identify the true breed of the 'ewok dog' we googled around the net and found this...



We will NOT be getting a second dog.

Videomania!

I am proud to announce that, in an unprecedented burst of laziness, we hired not one, not two, not even one more than two... but FOUR DVDs over the weekend! The hitlist stood as follows:

• Wallace & Gromit : Curse of the Were-Rabbit
• Pride & Prejudice
• Howl's Moving Castle
• 2064

Now I'm not one to foist my views upon others (everyone nod), and I have to admit that we didn't actually get around to seeing 2064, but I must say that this was actually quite a fine collection of flicks.

Kicking-off, Curse of the Were-Rabbit was yet another entertaining romp with Wallace and Gromit. Lots of ridiculous people and events, and even more amusing than I remember W & G being previously. So if you're into play-dough, rabbits, or both (like me), this film could be just the right way to gloss over a Friday night.

Next off the mark was P & P - the latest remake of this classic tale. Upfront, I must admit that I don't really have a soft spot for Keira Knightley (I can't even say her name in my head without putting on an outrageously snooty accent), so the odds were stacked against this film. However, in usual period drama style a la 'Emma' and 'Sense & Sensibility', I soon found myself wound up in the many comings and goings of this tale. A warning from Jesse though: The beginning is a bit hard-going what with too many young girls squealing and gibbering on, but if you focus and repeat if necessary, you should pull through fine.

Last, and my personal favourite, was Howl's Moving Castle. What a wicked animated film! Once again, I am embarrassed that I haven't delved into this genre earlier... but I'm now happily converted. Although a bit on the long side, this story had a lot of surprising humour, an imaginative premise and lots and lots of sparkly magical stuff! SOLD!!

Aaanyway, that's my wrap-up of events. It's not David & Margaret, but what is? If anyone has any other recent film recommendations, please feel free to comment. And if anyone wants to disagree with the views expressed in this post, please feel free to sod off. Thank you.

Week of the Devil

It is a bad week. A bad bad week. And I have had enough of it.

As a chaser to the coffee debacle that was Tuesday, and in an extremely unsurprising (or should I say 'unORIGINal') turn of events, a not-to-be-named gas company has destroyed my front garden.

The short version is that, under the laughable guise of moving our gas meter to the front of the house, an unruly mob of bumbling, Neolithic, putrid-orange-clad (and you know how I detest orange) bastards crash-tackled my garden. Not just any garden, mind you. My special newly-established garden which I have painstakingly watered with a crappy little watering can every day for the last 3 months.

Now although flipping completely off the hinge is not a common pastime for me, this wee shenanigan pulled the trigger. I had the phone at the ready and I wasn't afraid to use it. If only the damn complaints line was open beyond business hours. (Ha! Like 'business' hours even apply. 'Scum-sucking monopoly' hours perhaps, but I digress...)

The point is, I am now an angry angry little munchkin, with no garden and no meaningful avenue for revenge. In fact, my only solace comes in knowing that this is, without doubt, the Week of the Devil (oooooohhh); and if I can just make it through one more day, peace will return, balance will be restored, and those repugnant bastards will get hit by a tractor-trailer.

The Great Flood of '06

I have just spilt my very very full cup of coffee all over my desk!

BUGGER!

Bloody twisted phone cord knocked it over!!

I don't usually shout myself a special non-instant coffee, but this morning I splurged. And for what? For a sticky pool of sludge all over everything!!! My phone, my files (eek), my pens, bulldog clips, holepuncher, business cards... (And no, it doesn't help that I am an absolute grot when it comes to putting away things on my work desk.)

Aaanyway, I have embarrassingly made numerous trips to the bathroom/kitchen to get paper towels to mop this mess up. So my desk now looks better than ever - pity about the distinctive smell though... I wonder if anyone will notice...

Just Throwing It Out There

That last post was disgustingly serious, wasn't it? Really. Who am I to tell you where you should and shouldn't breakfast over your weekend? It is your truckin' weekend after all, isn't it??

Well, perhaps. But I'm not quite done with the cafe scene yet...

My concern now rests with the latest trend of people rating themselves on the strength of their coffee of choice. You know what I'm talking about. How many times have you heard someone comment on how strong their coffee is? All the time! (Though these people only whisper their comments quietly to their fellow sippers, and it goes no further than the table.)

Now, consider those people who actually complain to the wait staff about their coffee. Those special special people who should really just spare everyone the drama and inject their caffeine in the privacy of their own home. No coffee is too strong, too tough, nay, too packed with manly bitterness, for these kids. Milk is a soft option and sugar (cubes or otherwise) is for pussy-boys.

And so it goes that, because these junkies are so outspoken and such a hassle for cafe staff to deal with, I cop a super-concentrated cup of ruddy tar every time I order a skinny cap (weak with extra milk and sugar).

Well, I'm not whispering about how strong my coffee is any more! People! I'll give it to you straight! STOP MAKING REALLY REALLY RIDICULOUSLY STRONG COFFEE!!

And as for those jumped-up coffee Nazis out there who'd rather lose an eye than admit that their extra-caffeinated cuppa tastes like c**p, just take a second to put your fat head aside and think about the rest of us the next time you're about to go loco.

I will say no more than that. You know who you are.

Serendipity Baby

Woohooo! It's Saturday. Even though this particular Saturday also heralds state election day and blood test day in my books (double youch), the sun is shining, the birds are singing and it's a snappy damn day.

Partial credit for my enthusiasm today must go to a cute little spot Jesse and I hit for brekkie this morning - 'Serendipity' - tucked away in a wee corner of Kedron Brook Road. You could be forgiven for not noticing this quaint coffee bar. Between the big pizza joints, Coffee Club and assorted retail outlets, it sits quietly; biding its time until some unsuspecting customer stumbles upon one of its sunny spots and pulls up a pew. Which is precisely what happened to Jesse and I.

With an unpretentious breakfast menu which won't hurt the wallet, I was immediately hooked. Lovely genuine salt and pepper grinders adorned the little tables, together with white bowls filled with, (hurrah!), the now seemingly endangered sugar cubes.

After squandering sufficient time sunning ourselves and reading the papers, I couldn't help but wonder why more people don't frequent small privately operated cafes over the large chain brands cropping up everywhere. I mean, I appreciate that if you visit a chain store, you're probably going to find something you like and something consistent. But, to my mind, the consistency of such places is usually in the mediocre level of their service, quality and atmosphere.

So come on Brisbaninianses! Take a page out of Melbourne's book and, next weekend, instead of rushing to your local American styled coffee joint, seek out a hidden gem of charm and authenticity, and post a comment letting everyone else know just how good the little independent guys can be!

Please Explain

As a general rule, I hate awards shows. I hate the glitz. I detest the glamour. And I boo the less than witty banter of the hosts.

But when I stumbled upon this photo from the recent MTV video music awards, I began to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, I was missing something.

The women squashed like so many shameless hussies into the bottom of the above picture constitute the all-singing all-dancing "Pussy Cat Dolls," who in this shot had just won an award for doing the best bump-n-grind in a music video this year.

Now ordinarily, I would be somewhat perturbed by this whole situation, and would launch into some aimless rant about music these days, and why is it such rubbish, and what do the 17 other Pussy Cat Dolls do anyway. But instead, I found myself drawn to the blinding message MTV was sending to the world. A single word. The word which, so I hear, has been voted funniest common English word for three years running. PANTS!

Odd. Because I'd put money on the bet that the Pussy Cat Dolls were not wearing pants. They did not talk about pants. They didn't even thank "pants" for making this award possible. In fact, I bet they only infrequently think of pants in any meaningful way, if at all.

Yet there it was. Pants. Deep.

Make Poverty History

This is what happens when you put a gummi bear in water.

"Oooooohhh..." I hear you gasp.

Well, oooohhh indeed. Not only is this latest wonder of science visually impressive, but it may just represent the next natural leap in making poverty history.

Just for a second, imagine the implications of this photo in the circumstance that you are lucky enough to scoff a couple of gummi bears over morning tea. Upon digestion, your naughty indulgence would become a snack. What then, about a handful of gummies? Why, that's lunch. And dream, just dream, of what could become if the Gummi factory were to air-drop tonnes of gummies over those struggling third world nations....

Goodbye poverty. Hello diabetes. Aaaaahhh...

Frazzled

I love my hairdresser.

She is truly the most bestest hairdresser that ever a hairdresser was.

I first met her when I had to pick up some outrageous curls for my formal, and since that time we've gone through perms, foils, my wedding and everything. Even when the lad and I lived in Melbs for three years, I still got my hair done every time I returned to Brissy. Even now, I travel half way across town to see her.

Needless to say, the inspiration for this post is that I saw my hairdresser this very evening. Yay! As usual, we had our little banter about work, married life, and just how very slack I am at coming in every six weeks (though we both admired my efforts at only taking eight weeks this time 'round.)

And then she hit me with it. Yes, my most irreplaceable dresser of hairs told me that she was pregnant and due in three very short months - "one visit for you" as she so tactfully put it.

This news was harrowing. After all, she is my one and only hairdresser. I said all the right things, "Girl or boy?" (Girl.) "Name?" (Abby. But only if it's cute. Apparently you can't call an ugly baby Abby.)

Aaanyway, I eventually worked my way around to asking if she was going to take much time off for the wee bub. She just said that it would depend on how horrible it was...

A likely story. She's going to leave me. I know it. She's going to leave me and the evil evil regrowth I'll have by then!! I can't bear to think of it. I wonder perhaps if she'd keep working if I promised to come in every six weeks. Every six weeks I tell you! AND I'll buy professional styling products!!

Yep, that'll clinch it. Aaaahhh, yet another close shave avoided. Good work Al!

Always look on...

... the dark side of life. At least at the moment, as all of our house lights have just blown.

It seems Jesse has recently attempted to change one of our front outside lights, and in so doing has plunged us into darkness and nearly electrocuted himself.

But mainly plunged us into darkness.

'Night all.

Big Tease

Has anyone checked out Lux's new "Luminous Touch" body wash? Whilst dawdling down the bathroom aisle at Coles the other day (home of NAS tomato sauce, remember), I couldn't resist the beautifully tantalising new Lux body wash bottles. This particular "Luminous Touch" bottle was a lovely golden hue with little sparkly things on it, and it couldn't help but make you feel glad to be grubby.

Aaanyway, having purchased said bottle, I rushed home and jumped in the shower, ready to give it a red hot rumble. Well, it smelled fantastic and it looked gorgeous - all shiny and full of glittery bits. I couldn't help but drift off into images of the new bronzed Aussie Al that was sure to emerge from this cleansing extravaganza. After all, this luxurious goop was packed with 'shea cream' and 'skin illuminators', or so the bottle told me. (NB: I'm not sure what skin illuminators are exactly, but I imagine that they must be bubbly little critters with great personalities. Like this.)

In fact, the bottle went so far as to say that this body wash "...wraps your skin in a light reflective veil of shea cream and delicate skin brighteners, leaving your skin with a beautiful glow you can see."

I ask you, with descriptors like that, it is any wonder that I am saddened to say that, since using Luminous Touch yesterday, not one person has commented on how much I look like Jennifer Hawkins. In fact, nobody appears to have noticed my newly-acquired veil of luminosity at all.

Still, don't get me wrong. I don't mean to be defamatory in any way. Indeed, it may just be my particular bottle that doesn't quite hit the mark. But I can't help but think that there seems to be an inherent conflict of interest between something that will enveil my skin despite being 'rinsed well'. In fact, it gives me pause to consider, where oh where is an over-zealous disclosure regime when you really need it?

Genius

I must share my excitement. Amongst normal people, it is probably a little known fact that a most stupendous game is coming out on XBox 360 at the end of this year...

VIVA PINATA!!!

I love sim games.

I love animals. I love plants. I love pinatas.

And Viva Pinata unites all these things in one magical sim game! Wooohoooooooo!

Anyone who's keen to find out what I'm babbling about should check out Rare's dedicated VP page - though this site alone really doesn't do it justice.

Par-tay!

The lovely Michelle celebrated her 23rd birthday in 'M' style on Friday night, with many monks, Mexicans and miscellaneous madmen in attendance.

Unfortunately, yours truly decided to run with a Mohican outfit, which was clearly a little obtuse for most of the party-goers. (Guesses included Mayan, Montezuman and Pocahontas. COME ON PEOPLE!)

Aaanyway, it's been a while since I attended a humdinger fancy dress party, so it was great to see the outstanding effort everyone made to get into the theme. There were authentic matadors and Monkey Magic pilgrims - even Merv made a show, mo and all. Hats went off to Gav as a balding monk, and nobody could outdo the birthday girl resplendent as a blue M&M.

My only disappointment was that Sing Star wasn't pulled out for the occasion. (Perhaps next time). But fortunately everyone seemed to cope and have a rollicking good time nonetheless.

"Sneakers" Pah!

An interesting observation.

A work buddy of mine, Shev, ventured into the mall today (lunchtime no less), to pick out a new pair of runners. Her old pair of runners were white with hot pink highlights. Her new pair of runners are sort of egg-shell blue with white and maroon details. This got me thinking.

Why do sneakers only come in zany colours?? All those brazen pinks and yellows. Not to mention spawn-of-the-devil orange. And even those white shoes that went easy on the colours can peel paint of cars.

I just want reserved runners. Softly-spoken sneakers that won't take your eye out. Must my comfy shoes always look so wretchedly horrid with a suit and stockings that I am compelled to walk in heels to work??

I am sick and tired of trying to buy gym clothes that match the wacky sneaker colours I despairingly committed to earlier. Is it any wonder that, in stark contrast to runners, gym clothes only seem to come in white, black and grey.

Again, I would call for reform. But having failed in my rally to convince middle-aged men not to order their Ferraris in corn-puss yellow, I fear I shall have to just let this one go.

Smartest Dog Alive

I am somewhat perturbed. It's a long story, but the short version is that I have returned from work to find that Bindi has chewed up my nice new pink razor. Of course, by 'chewed' I mean rendered utterly lifeless. Disturbingly, the actual razor head has yet to be located. So if I'm not at work tomorrow, I'm at the vet...

BTW

Forget petrol prices. In a sad turn of events my standard lunch of fruit salad and yogie has gone up by 40c. I am so disillusioned.

Don't Think I Don't Know You're Out There

Dear All (and by 'All' I mean those special special people I specifically emailed this blog to), this is just a polite post to let you know that I know that you are not spending nearly enough time reading my blog. I am particularly devastated that all my so-called music officiando buddies have not leapt into answering that damn song title quiz thingy. Do you have any idea how many times I had to listen to the start of those songs?? I don't even like some of them!! :(

So here it is. Cards on the table. I know when you visit and I know when you don't. I know the dodgy dodgy sites you've linked in from and I know just how very little time you stayed on my dodgy site. I don't want to name names and I don't want to place any extra pressure on you guys. But I'm keeping a list, and Christmas cards may depend on that list. So you've been warrrrrned! Hahahahaarrharrrrrrrr...

Clash of the Titans

Hello dear world. It has been but 20 minutes since my last post. And in that time, I've been thinking. Thinking about work. Thinking about blogs. But mainly thinking about whether it is better to be a wizard or an elf.

Elf Ali: "Must you even pause? We elves are intriguing, haunting, and really, really, ridiculously good-looking. We have big pointy ears, are nigh-immortal and make lovely quiet neighbours. Our magic is subtle - no ghastly flashes and hocus pocus. We are masters of the elements; and hold alcohol like a treat."
Wizard Ali: "Touche, my tree-hugging friend. I may have the tolerance of a gibbon, but I can turn you into a gibbon also. And who hasn't laughed at a gibbon with big pointy ears?"
Elf Ali: "Mock me not, monkey-boy, or I shall be forced to stun you with my chiseled features."
Wizard Ali: "Ho-ho! Not before you meet the pointy end of my wand rodent friend! Methinks a duel is at hand!!!"

Zing Zing!

Kapow!

Grrrr!

Shazam!

To be continued....

The Lopsided Square

Question. Are doonas square?

My better half would like to claim that ours is, but I beg to differ.

This quandary came into play when one of our (yet to be identified) petties left a gift on our usual oodna-doonie, and we had to call for a reinforcement. Well now, doonie mark 2 looked fine on the bed, but within 5 minutes of hitting the pillow it became apparent that this blanky was tiny - a facewasher. At least on MY side anyway.

I knew that Jesse couldn't possibly have been asleep at that stage, so I made a few little grumpy noises to give him the idea... but no response. Becoming increasingly huffier, I then tried to pull the blanky over, no longer really caring whether Jesse was asleep or not. But no joy was had.

And that is when I started thinking that the doona must have been the wrong way round. You know. Stretching long-ways down the bed... Which made sense if Jesse wanted to keep his monster feet warm. However, when confronted in a blur of anger later that night, I was impolitely assured that no, the doona was square, and there was no 'wrong way round'. Humph.

I'm not convinced. And since I seem to have been doing quite well in the blanky stakes since that night, I'm reading the lack of follow-up as implied consent. Ali - 1. Jesse - none none none!

The Which Wing?

A request. Can everybody who understands The West Wing please raise their hands?

Just as I suspected...

Is it just me, or is this one of the fastest-talking most quick-witted programs on tv at the moment? Maybe it helps if you're American, but I don't know. It makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever. To check whether, in fact, it literally is 'just me', I recently conducted a poll at work involving the one other person I know who watches The West Wing. His viewing of the program was recounted as follows:

Friend's wife: "So do you know what they're talking about?"
Friend: "Nup".
Friend's wife: "Do you know what that person is doing?"
Friend: "Nup".
Friend's wife: "Do you even know what show this is?"
Friend: "Yep, it's The West Wing - top show!"

And that is the ridiculous enigma that is The West Wing.

Roll Up Roll Up

Hello hello! Welcome all to my little house! As you can see, it's pretty weeny, and tightly nestled between its fellow housey neighbours. But if you only want 3 stops to town, that's what you get.

Now for those friends afar, I thought I'd include a little picki of our front yard which has caused us so much grief. Essentially, what you see here has involved days of tireless labour (mainly from Jesse and his dad), due to the numerous tonnes of concrete originally used to fill our front lawn. I kid you not. A few piles of the evil stuff are still lingering around the place.

Aaanyway, no jokes in this post unfortunately - just a practical note to fill my overdue obligation to post some photos of our new place.

i m kool

I have obtained my first official 'comment'! It did, perhaps, demonstrate a little more 'tude than anticipated...

...but hurrah for me!! I have made it in the blogging world!

Yes!

ATTENTION ALL!

'truckinrucker.com' is available. Phew.

1337

According to the most serene of intelligences, the Wikipedia:

"Leet is a slang term used primarily on the Internet, particularly in online games. It is derived from the word "Elite" and generally has the same meaning when referring to the skills of another person. The term is often written with numbers replacing letters, such as 1337, l33t, l33+, as well as many other variations."

I am anger. What the truckin' rucker is going on these days? Ok, so perhaps Generation Y (or whatever the heck they are these days) are a tad too cool for this wrinkly bumpkin. But please! Enuf is enough! At first, I thought a likely culprit for this epidemic was mobile phones. I then considered that liability may rest on email's shoulders. But no. I've sorted it. It's Nite Owl. Or maybe Pick 'n' Pay. Definitely one of those. And we all know what happened to them... The great wizened Owl is all but off its perch. And old Pickster... well, contrary to popular belief about snot on the carpet, it is now a financial tumbleweed due to the sheer unadulterated tackiness of its title.

So perhaps the current hip-hoppy, props-monkey coolios were too young to remember the scar Pick 'n' Pay left. But not this rabbit. Oh no. The slobbish slang of the moment will lose its l33tness all too soon, and in a few short years the leaders of this linguistic rat-pack will look back and realise with astonishment that they were, in truth, a complete mob of 7001s.

Outrage.com

Big day today. Big big day. In a side-step from the usual, I had a schedule of training today, focusing on 'Coaching Skills'. (Or as I would have said as a tot, 'choking skills'). On top of the usual chatter about top coaching qualities and situational leadership styles, I was overjoyed to find that the day included a hands-on component. In fact, as a result of this practical application opportunity, I can now somewhat confidently start a whipper-snipper (no more scissors!), I am the proud owner of a paper 'chatterbox' (and will marry Orlando Bloom!!), and I have semi-successfully trained two colleagues in conversational French. Not a bad day's work, non?

In addition to the mammoth creativity expenditure made in training today, it is with great eagerness that Jesse and I have spent the last 48 hours brainstorming catchy company/venture names. We've even gone so far as to check their availability as dot-coms.

Well holy guacamole! Tip for young players - do not bother thinking about registering a domain name. Ever. Not even after pulling out a dictionary. It is a little known fact that all identifiable English words are already domain names. Even the dorky ones. And it doesn't stop there. The dot-com company is clean out of phonetic derivations too. They went out with all the trendy 'x' and 'z' words - sparx, sparkz, sparkxez. Indeed, out of our many trials (and there were many, many, bordering on the ridiculous), the only magic one left was sparkypants.com. True. You don't even have to use a 'z'! So despite my narkiness (which is also available), I guess there is hope after all - just not as a domain name.

Hurrah

I have a dream. A dream that, one day, much like chicken, all things in this world will taste like tomato sauce. It is truly the greatest of condiments, converting all variety of dull and lifeless edibles into zesty red packages of sunshine!

And that is why, when my love affair with salt came to an abrupt halt earlier this year, it was with crushing devastation that I realised that I was to part ways with tomato sauce (and indeed its many offspring of barbecue sauces, soy sauces and so on).

UNTIL YESTERDAY! For yesterday, I discovered my first bottle of No Added Salt (NAS) Tomato Sauce!!

"Hurrah!!" I hear you think. Well, I'm afraid 'hurrah' is not enough my kiddles. Not nearly enough. In fact, I am calling for all you avid readers to go out tonight and pick up your very own bottle of NAS tomato sauce! For it is only through sheer purchasing power that NAS tomato sauce will retain its crucial position on the shopping centre shelf... and nobody wants to think about what I'll do the day I turn up to Coles and it's not there...

So go now my children! Embrace the wickedness that is NAS tomato sauce (and save a poor.. sick.. girl's.. remaining sanity).

Rock Out

How much is everybody loving the start to 'Idol' this year? My favourite lost soul so far is the girl who said that her voice sounds the same as Kelly Clarkson... at least when she's singing along with Ms Clarkson anyway.

I thought this comment was fantastic! I have clearly found a soulmate! Indeed, I too, think that my voice sounds like Kelly when I sing along with her... And Pink when I sing with her... And even Robbie when I sing with him! It is truly a skill that few possess.

And how about those Aussies that put on the American slur to sing? I particularly enjoy that also, and attempt to engage in similar conduct whenever possible. "Peace out y'all!"

Children Are Our Future

What's the deal with jelly babies these days?

We have a lolly jar at work, and it has recently been topped up with all variety of gummy surprises and sugary delights. But somebody needs to send me the memo on jelly babies.

I remember jelly babies being cute little tubby people with clearly distinguishable limbs and facial features. In the last couple of weeks I have seen the following throwbacks to the babies-o-jell of the past:

• 'The lego baby' - that most basic of creature that seems to have accidentally stapled its arms to its pants.
• 'The freakshow' - the poor mutated jelly obliterated by craters of such magnitude that its correct orientation remains a mystery.
• 'The Swedish chef' - 'the freakshow' with an additional mutation - I giant puffy glob at the top.
• (And my personal favourite) 'The coy baby' - to my absolute mirth and astonishment, this bub has strategically placed hands covering its privates. I thought perhaps it was a once-off mistake, but, brilliantly, no...

And while I'm throwing the entire gummy industry into question, someone needs to tell all those confectioners to take the white stuff off the strawberries and cream. Nobody can seriously like that stuff. I'm advised by my better half that the white goo 'tastes like milkbottles'. Milkbottles shmilkbottles. All it does is dilute the zesty fruit goodness packed into those suckers. Begone white goo!! YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!

Leftovers

Well, unsurprisingly, everyone did very well in my little music spot quiz. Gold stars for everybody!

However, for completeness, I feel I should include the unanswered leftovers:

1. Stuck - Stacie Orrico
2. I'm Outta' Love - Anastacia
9. Carousel - Eskimo Joe
12. Outta' My Head - Kylie
16. When I Get You Alone - Thicke
18. Sex & Candy - Marcy's Playground
25. Let Go - Frou Frou
27. Have Fun Go Mad - Blair
30. Wisemen - James Blunt
35. Walkin' On The Sun - Smashmouth
37. Something To Remember - Madonna
40. Overcome - Live
42. Head Over feet - Alanis Morisette
43. Crazy In Love - Beyonce
44. Breathe On Me - Britney Spears
45. Story Of A Girl - Nine Days
46. Walking Away - Craig David
47. Spin The Bottle - Juliana Hatfield
49. 1 Thing - Amerie
50. Legend Of A Cowgirl - Imani Coppola

A Wee Quizzle

Being completely unoriginal and thoroughly inspired by other friends' blogs, I thought I'd throw in a wee quiz to see how well all you chickens know my music. Below, I've included the first line from the next 50 random songs shuffled through media player. I'm looking for song title and artist, so let the comment frenzy begin!! (And remember, NO GOOGLING!!!)

1. I can't get out of bed today, or get you off my mind.

2. OooohaWhoa Yeah yeah yeah yeah Oh yeah Aha Now baby come on, don't claim that love you never let me feel.

3. Woke up this morning, from the strangest dream.
Holy Grail - Hunters & Collectors

4. I was born, long ago; I am the chosen I'm the one.
Are You Gonna Go My Way - Lenny Kravitz

5. Must be your skin that I'm sinkin' in, must be for real cause now I can feel.
Glycerine - Bush

6. Sunshine on my window, makes me happy, like I should be.
Calypso - Spiderbait

7. I wanna know what he knows, I wanna feel what he felt.
Apply Candy - Ben Lee

8. When you were here before, couldn't look you in the eyes.
Creep - Radiohead

9. Go to sleep now and dream of him close.

10. Beauty queen of only 18.
She Will Be Loved - Maroon 5

11. Take those shackles off my feet so I can dance.
Shackles (Praise You) - Mary Mary

12. Lalala Lalaal'lala Lalala Lalaal'lala...

13. Ah, We move like cagey tigers.
Love Cats - The Cure

14. Everyone gather round now, sing us a song, just in case by tomorrow it happens he's gone.
Steven's Last Night In Town - Ben Folds Five

15. Shed a tear 'cause I'm missing you, I'm still alright to smile.
Patience - Guns n Roses

16. Oooh...Eah! Baby girl, where you at? Got no strings, got men attached.

17. I thought love was only true in fairytales.
I'm A Believer - Smashmouth

18. Hangin' round. downtown by myself, and I had so much time to sit and think about myself.

19. She came all the way from America.
Mean To Me - Crowded House

20. Duty, who's your master? Who gave you fingers? Who gave you to me?
The Baron of Sentiment - Augie March

21. Load up on guns, bring your friends; It's fun to lose, and to pretend.
Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

22. Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.
Ain't No Sunshine - Marvin Gaye

23. Have you ever been close to tragedy.
Knock on Wood - Mighty Mighty Bosstones

24. Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog.
Round Here - Counting Crows

25. Drink up, baby down; Mmm, Are you in or are you out?

26. When I get to the bottom I go back to the top of the slide.
The Beatles - Helter Skelter

27. All aboard that funkboat I'm about to start sailing now.

28. Her name is Noelle.
Teenage Dirtbag - Wheatus

29. A few questions that I need to know, How you could ever hurt me so.
Never Ever - All Saints

30. She said to me, "Go steady on me".

31. Friday night I'm going nowhere, All the lights are changing green to red.
Babylon - David Gray

32. My baby don't care for shows.
My Baby Just Cares For Me - Nina Simone

33. Right about now, The funk soul brother.
Rockafella Skank - Fatboy Slim

34. Waitin', watchin' the clock.
Better Man - Pearl Jam

35. It ain't no joke, I'd like to buy the world a toke.

36. And I'd give up forever to touch you.
Iris - Goo Goo Dolls

37. Seems I've played the game for much too long.

38. Sometimes I feel I've got to, Run away.
Tainted Love - Soft Cell

39. This is a call to the colourblind, This is an IOU.
Bigger Than My Body - John Mayer

40. Even now, the world is bleedin'; But feelin' just fine, all numb in our castle.

41. It's sitting by the overcoat, The second shelf, The note she wrote.
Long Day - Matchbox 20

42. I had no choice but to hear you.

43. Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, oh no no.

44. It's so hot in here... Oooh, It's so hot and I need some air.

45. This is the story of a girl.

46. Sometimes some people get me wrong.

47. He's a movie star; Only drives rented cars.

48. I can't stand to fly.
Superman - Five for Fighting

49. Na na na na na oh. Oh, been trying to let it go; Trying to keep my eyes closed.

50. I'm gonna drink my whiskey, I'm gonna have my man, I know you got nothing to say.

The Meaning of It All...

A friend of mine (Miss Kris P) is currently traveling on the Trans-Siberian railway and, despite slow internet connections and foreign keyboards, she manages to check-in with a diary update every week or so. Aside from being well-impressed by this effort, it got me thinking, "Gee Al, you really are an incredibly slack ol' git. Why don't you set up a blog so that your far-flung (and not-so-far-flung) friends and acquaintances can keep up with your many fascinating comings and goings?" In response, I concurred that this was, indeed, not such a bad idea. Indeed, I might even get props from my hubby's IT buddies...

So, what can I report? Hmmm... I may have to include some historical info here, just to fill everybody in. So here we go...

I was going to begin with a recount of a harrowing eyebrow-wax experience I incurred a couple of weeks ago. However, since that time I have had my wisdom teeth out, which has just narrowly ousted the 'brows tale for poll position.

Still, the moral of the story is that I miss my wisdom teeth. I mean, I only have three all up, so with two now gone and only one left to come through, things are really quiet on the dental front. I realise that they never really served a purpose - I don't THINK my wisdom has dropped since they were wrenched from my body - but still. And what about the pain?? Nobody told me about the constant ache that would drive me loopy for over a week. All I heard about was how the noises would be horrible etc etc. So listen up all those other unsuspecting wisdom teeth hugging kiddies out there - the experience in the dental chair is fine! Even when one tooth takes over an hour and a half to get out!! It is, in fact, the following week or so, drugged up on painkillers, that you have to worry about. Still, the good news is that they have now healed and I am in no way bitter about the entire ordeal. So that's that.

Moving on to current matters, I am presently listening to Bjork's album "Debut". A little odd, but it keeps me chillin' at work, so it's doing the job. And who doesn't love 'Big Time Sensuality'? Honestly???

Looking ahead, after some coercion from a couple of work buddies, it looks as though we're hitting some ridiculous Latin dance do tomorrow night, which should be interesting. Bring on the daiquiris!! Following that, on Wednesday we have the most exciting of public holidays - the Brisbane Ekka holiday. Unfortunately, I've already had the flu this year, so there seems little need for me attend. Instead, the boy and I shall be making the intrepid trek up to the Sunshine Coast for Jesse's grandma's 80th birthday bash! Will be good to catch up with Jesse's folks, but someone help me - what the hell do you get an 80-year old that isn't frilly or smelly?? All suggestions welcome.